


Favourite Colours

by Aithilin



Series: Fai's Little Secrets [3]
Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 01:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7914256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurogane always understood that blue was not Fai's favourite colour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Favourite Colours

**Author's Note:**

> For the Fai's Little Secrets thing.

~*~Yellow~*~

When they reached a world covered in thick, fluffy snow, Kurogane realized that he loved Fai’s smile. Not the plastered on one he hid behind at first, nor the chirpy tones and grin of his mask presented to strangers. There was the smirk and dangerous grin that Kurogane found himself matching— the one that appeared in battle, wild and confident and feral— which Kurogane did like to see from time to time (and the softer version reserved for their bed). 

But the real smile. The one that started off soft and gentle— just a slight upturn of his lips— until the man was grinning and laughing freely. The light smile, full of Fai’s promise to keep living. 

In this world, in the midst of a winter festival, Fai was smiling at the abundance of lights. It started as he noticed the strings partially submerged in the thick covering of snow— just colourful, muffled orbs of light shining through. Then there was the lines and lines of lights strung up around them, suspended in criss-crossed strings of colourful bulbs overhead as they walked through the alleys of vendors and games. 

“To draw back the sun,” Syaoran said as he read from the little pamphlet they had been given when they arrived. “The colour isn't significant, just the amount of lights.”

Fai was already well ahead of them, Mokona perched on his shoulder, both marvelling at the bright lights. 

Kurogane heard Syaoran’s explanation— the story of the lights, the bonfire that will finish off the whole festival, the fear of the dark— but he only saw Fai and his smile. Saw it get brighter as he came to the strings of little yellow lights hanging and swaying from bare branches, overlooked for the more colourful decorations everywhere else. 

He knew that Fai liked bright colours, that blue was just a uniform— familiar, easy, something he could wear without much thought. But he smiled at yellows. 

He smiled at the soft yellow fairy lights around him now. He smiled at the deep and rich golden colours of flowers and paints. He seemed happiest in the warm sunlight, face turned towards the brightness. 

For a while, Kurogane thought that yellow might be Fai’s favourite colour. Not the garish shining golds or the striking colour of his hair; but the soft, pallid yellow of his magic, or the fairy lights muted by snow, or the soft, hopeful twists of sunlight squeezing through the clouds. 

That was the colour of the mittens he found. Made from some ridiculously soft yarn Syaoran said was unique to the world. 

Fai was delighted by the gift. “Kuro-pon shouldn't have!”

For a while, Kurogane thought that yellow might be Fai’s favourite colour.

~*~Red~*~

“What are you doing, idiot?” 

“Admiring Kuro-sama’s lovely eyes.”

“Tch. Stop that.”

There were very few worlds where they had a room to themselves. Fewer still where they could take the time to stay in bed to watch the morning light push through the room. Mornings where Fai draped himself across Kurogane’s broader chest, long fingers tracing patterns on his hips. Mornings where Kurogane Could run his hands through soft golden hair and press his lips to paler skin. 

Mornings like this, where the blankets tangled around them and Fai’s smile was the first thing he saw. 

“Kuro-woof’s eyes are an interesting colour.”

“It's from demon blood.”

“Really?”

“Don't be an idiot. My eyes are brown.”

“No they aren’t,” he loved Fai’s smile, the soft curl and lift and the lightness it had on mornings like this. “Red. Blood red, demon red.”

He knew that grin. Knew that look. Fai was already playful, and it was barely past dawn. 

“The most lovely shade of blood rose red.”

Fingers flexed against pale hips, strong muscles twisted and barely strained, and Fai was on his back with a laugh. 

“Idiot.”

“Lust red.”

“Shut up.”

Fai didn't wear red, but he admired it, Kurogane noticed. The mage touched the soft petals of red flowers and smiled when he noticed his own kiss-bruised lips in his morning routines. He paused at the colour red, and smiled his silly, thoughtful smile that Kurogane had learnt could mean trouble. 

Times when he would brace himself for the inevitable brush of lips against his ear and a straining, slender body pressed close. Times when he could feel slender arms around waist, or shoulders, snaking around him to pull them together. Times when Fai would smile and nip and tease, and mutter;

“Passion red.”

~*~Pink~*~

“Sakura-chan would like this!”

The little mascot was everywhere in this city— the cheerful, cartoon face and features on every official document and sign and building. It was soft, and colourful, and unbearably cute. 

Of course they would send one of the little plush mascots off to Clow. 

Of course Fai loved the happy little creature plastered everywhere. 

“Moko-chan! This is the one for her.” The little plush, barely bigger than Mokona herself, was pink. Not a garish, bright pink. Not the colour of cartoon flowers. 

It was the colour of her flower. The one that Fai had fallen in love with. The colour of delicate petals, so pale in one light and so vivid in others. Blossoms that coloured entire worlds with the nostalgia of spring. Blossoms that Kurogane once overlooked as common, predictable (beautiful, of course, but he had better things to worry about than what the spring flowers looked like in Tomoyo’s gardens). 

The colour of blossoms Kurogane never noticed until they were landing on Fai’s outstretched hand. Until he saw the mage catching falling petals with a small smile, and a bit of magic to draw more closer. Until he saw how the idiot pressed the blossoms that could be gently plucked and asked for Mokona to send them off to his princess with a ribbon. 

He never noticed the lovely, soft, pure pink of those petals until he was brushing them from Fai’s hair. 

The little mascot, barely bigger than Mokona, was the same gentle colour. 

He picked up a second one— before they left, when the kid and mage were busy— to keep for Fai. The same little creature with such bright colours and big eyes. He pretended not to smile at the teasing tones and open delight from Fai when the gift was presented. 

“Kuro-sama’s so sweet!” Fai would beam and inspect the little toy with all nthe wonder of a child. “Why?”

“Because you like pink.”

~*~Black~*~

Fai looked good in black. Fai looked good in most colours, but black suited him almost suspiciously well. Despite his natural light colouring, black clothing— suits, robes, tunics, cloaks (over-sized sweaters stolen from Kurogane in some worlds)— made the mage stand out that much more. His hair shone like sun- and starlight against storm clouds, his eyes dramatically bright. His smile more noticeable. His appearance ghostly in the right light. 

When dressed in black, Fai could be intimidating. 

Unless he was sprawled out in a a heavy wool sweater on their bed. As he currently was. 

In the right suit, Fai was a prince. With all the presence and command of his station. 

In a cloak, hiding the shock brightness of his hair, he was as much a shadow as Kurogane. 

Stretched out as he was, the sweater barely coming to his thighs, a stack of books Ina language he could read by the bed, he was temptation. 

“You look good in black,” Kurogane muttered over Fai. Lips could trail only so far down— hands could only move so far up— until the fabric barrier became a problem. “You should wear it more often.”

“I like black.” Like this, Fai wasn't a prince. He wasn't a commander or noble or warrior. He was Fai, happy, light, his. 

His.

Like this, in the quiet moments of a world where they could rest and research, Kurogane loved Fai in all his silly, childish wonder and laughter. In his thoughtful quiet and quick wit. In his cleverness and fear. In all the bright contrast the man was. 

“Is it your favourite colour?” He hadn't meant to ask, but it came between them anyway. Muttered against the sensitive skin of a pallid throat. 

He didn't expect an honest answer.

He expected the laugh and smile and kiss. 

“It's my favourite colour on you, Kuro-sama.”

~*~Green~*~

The gardens and fields around the Imperial Palace were green for most of the year. Beyond the city walls and among the farms, the grasses grew rich, thick, living green. Even from their rooms— the ones that skirted the private gardens of the imperial family, where he could see the light from Tomoyo’s dressmaking rooms burning late into the night as she tried to mimic the fashions he had collected for her on their journey— their view in spring was all pale new greens and soft blossoms, and the hills beyond the city were draped in blankets of greens when the snow melted. 

He had found Fai seated high in the thin branches of the trees outside their room plenty of times. Sometimes cradling a still-steaming cup of tea or miso (sleeves covering his hands to ward off the heat as he sipped), and sometimes just watching the sunlight creep across the sky. 

He had found Fai sprawled out in grass and chasing butterflies with children on the farms— teaching them how to weave the long blades together with nimble fingers. 

On the road to Suwa, he saw Fai marvel at the abundance of colour and lush greens that had taken over the road. He watched Fai gently peel vines away from ruined shrines and road markers— his magic guiding the plants to safer routes while they cleared the demons from the mountains. 

Kurogane smiled as Fai sprawled on cool grass after the heart of the demons in Suwa was ripped away and they finally had time to rest. As Fai coaxed the newest sprouts from beneath scorched earth they worried was poisoned. 

It was only a year before Kurogane asked Tomoyo for an outfit for Fai. Something to commemorate the welcoming ceremonies for the new farmers and the new merchants who came to settle first.

“Something green,” he wrote. “Fai likes green.”

It was much later, as they watched the new village picked itself up, as he brushed blades of grass from Fai’s hair, that he finally muttered; “green is your favourite colour?”

“Of course, Kuro-tan!” Fai beamed and leaned against him, eyes still bright after a day of playing and working. “There's so much of it here.”

“Idiot. It's everywhere.”

“Not where I'm from.”


End file.
